


Special Treatment

by castielshoneybee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean has the Munchies, F/M, Fluff, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielshoneybee/pseuds/castielshoneybee
Summary: Writing Prompt: These are not regular brownies!





	

“Dean, hurry up!”

“I'm trying!” After what seems like an eternity, the lock clicks open, and Dean slips inside, you close on his heels. It was risky breaking into the house with the loud party going on next door, but the job had to get done. Two students were dead, and a third was in the hospital, fighting for his life. You'd figured out the ghost was an old man who resented students living in his home, but he was cremated, so you were at the house, looking for a portrait of the man's wife. You walk through the kitchen, heading for the stairs to the attic. You figured that was the most likely place for the painting to be stored. “Hey, brownies!” You shake your head as Dean nabs one off the plate, devouring it in two bites.

“Over here!” You can't quite reach the string to the pull down stairs and let out a frustrated sigh after your second failed jump. Dean chuckles as he reaches up and grabs it easily, pulling the hatch open.

“I got your back, Short Round.”

“Shuddup!” You playfully punch his arm before taking the lead up the stairs, then yelp as Dean pinches your butt. “No time for love, Dr. Jones! We're on a job!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I couldn't help myself.” You can hear the grin in his voice. 

“Well, rein it in, horndog.” You swing left when you get to the top of the stairs, and Dean goes right. Sweeping your flashlight around, you head for a drop cloth covered lump in the corner. Lifting it up, you see some old furniture, but no artwork. You turn to see what Dean's doing just as the ghost appears behind him. Pulling up your shotgun, you squeeze off a rock salt round, and the ghost dissipates. “Guess we're getting close.” You move across the attic to join Dean in his search.

“Here!” Dean pulls the painting out, looking at it for a moment before drowning it in lighter fluid. “Boy, she was fugly.” The ghost appears to your right, and you swing your tire iron, holding it off again. It immediately reappears behind you and knocks the iron out of your hand, then grabs you by the throat.

“Dean! Hurry!” You barely manage to squeak it out as the cold, ghostly hands tighten on your windpipe.

“Shit!” Dean fumbles with his lighter, flicking it unsuccessfully a few times before it finally lights. He touches it to the painting, and it's quickly engulfed in flames. You feel the hands disappear from your neck as the ghost stumbles back, flames engulfing it as the painting is consumed. Dean rushes over to you. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. I don't think he liked you saying that about his wife.” Dean's full belly laughter cuts through the tension. It's one of your favorite sounds, and one you don't hear often enough. You make sure the fire’s out before you leave the attic. You don't want to burn the house down. Working your way through the kitchen, Dean grabs the rest of the plate of brownies, eating two more before following you out the door. “Seriously, Dean?”

“Hey, it's payment for a job well done.”

****

“I'll have a reuben and fries.” You watch Dean look over the diner’s menu.

“Uh, I'll have a burger, extra bacon, and fries. An order of onion rings, a chocolate shake, and a piece of cherry pie.” The server jots it all down and leaves the table.

“Really, Dean? That's a lot, even for you.”

“I'm starving! Ooh, look! One of those old time tabletop jukeboxes! Gimme some quarters!” You raise your eyebrow at him, then dig in your purse until you find a few quarters, passing them over to him. He peruses the selection, just finishing his choices as the server brings your food. He digs in with gusto. “Oh, my god, this is so good!” He says around a mouthful of burger. “You gotta try one of these onion rings!”

****

You climb into the passenger seat of the Impala, thinking that something is up with Dean. He wouldn't shut up the entire meal, and he ate every bite of the gigantic mountain of food he'd ordered. He climbs into the driver's seat, reaching back and grabbing another brownie off the plate in the back seat.

“Dean, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm great!” He takes a huge bite of the brownie. “Why?”

“You're acting really weird.”

“No, I'm totally good. Brownie?” He shoves the half of the brownie in his hand into your face, and that's when you smell it.

“Uh, Dean? These are not regular brownies!”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“They’re, uh, special.”

“Hell yeah, they are! They're awesome!”

“No, you dumbass! They’re full of weed!” His eyes widen. “How many did you eat?”

“Uh,” you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain. “Four?”

“Including that one?” He looks down at the brownie in his hand.

“Four and a half?” Your hand covers your eyes as you shake your head. 

“Dude, you're gonna be high for like two days. Get out of the car. I'm driving.” He doesn't protest, and a few moments later, you're heading down the road. “You know Sam's never going to let you live this down, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story. I was at work and was telling a friend the plot of this story. A co-worker was standing there and said, "Who eats a brownie they found in a haunted house?" With no hesitation, my friend and I both said, "Dean Winchester."


End file.
